Anything For You, Mags
by Ibbonray
Summary: "...You have a soul, and it might be cracked from your Games, but you still have one, and I can see it in your eyes. But he took mine! He took mine! My eyes are soulless, unlike everyone else's!" After her Games, Mags couldn't look into anyone's eyes. The eyes are the windows to the soul, you see, and she didn't have one. One-shot, written for the Starvation forum's monthly prompt.


A/N: Hey! Just was wondering what the November 2013 prompt was for the Starvation forum... which is "the eyes are the windows to the soul" (thanks RueThisDay, it's a great topic!)... and had this sudden inspiration. Anyway, I totally wrote this on the spot. Enjoy.

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_She's running. Running. Running away because oh, God, if he finds out she left him, the whole world is going to come crashing down. Her feet hit the ground at a steady pace as she crashes through the underbrush, clutching her awl tighter in her sweaty palm, pushing her frizzy red hair out of her eyes as she runs away from her only ally, in pure darkness. Her only way of seeing is the night vision glasses she wears, which don't do much good because all of the other tributes have the glasses too. And if she doesn't run away fast enough, Conner is going to find her and beat her and who knows what else?_

_Running, running, running. It's the only word that goes through her mind in the ten minutes she is getting away, getting away from Conner and getting away from everything that matters at all: her instincts, her love, her sanity… everything, except for one man, of eighteen, who steps out of the shadows and says, "Well, well, well. If it isn't Magnolia Fischer."_

_She screams, and she is running so fast she cannot stop. She cannot stop running away, she cannot stop running towards HIM, that man, that man who has been raping all of the tributes, has been… oh God! And this entire time she's been worried about Conner, when she hasn't given a thought to this man, this man of eighteen with that gleaming silver knife he clutches now, like she clutches her awl… _her awl_…_

_She brings up her awl in defense, for she cannot run away any more, as she is going to fast. She is running towards him. Running. Running. Running…_

"Mags! Mags! Wake up! Wake up!"

As she wakes, she is sobbing. Strong arms envelop her and she clutches at them, clutches onto sanity, wishing she never has to let go, even though she will one day. But for now, she has her sanity, and she doesn't have to run any more.

He pulls away, and still she clings to him; but he removes her hands from his shoulders anyway, and looks into her eyes. She can do nothing but simply glance at his. He has such beautiful eyes. They have a depth to them that hers can never attain, like the colour of the bottom of the ocean, such a deep blue that they look almost black. But quickly, she averts her own eyes, staring at the crumpled sheets of her bed, because she has never been able to look directly at those eyes. She can never look directly at _anyone's_ eyes.

"Was it him again?" Says the man in front of her.

"Yes," she replies. Her voice shakes. She wishes it didn't shake so, but there's nothing she can do about it. Just the thought of that man from her Games, the one who raped her, the one who... _don't think about it._

"Oh, Mags," he whispers. "It'll get better. Your Games are over… he can't get you any more… you don't have to run any more… I'm here, and you are safe."

Still she stares at the bed sheets. Anywhere but his eyes. She cannot look at his eyes. "But Kenan," she whispers, "he's still in my memories. He will never leave my memories. Khia never leaves yours, and your Games were six years ago."

"Yes," he mumbles. "But that was different…"

"How different, Kenan? _How different?_ Games are Games. We Victors will remember those people whom were in our Games, forever!" She is shouting now. But she still can't look at those blue eyes. She wishes that would be easy. She wishes everything could be easy. But _nothing_ is easy.

"Mags," says he. "Look at me." She doesn't. "Look at me, Mags." She refuses to. "_LOOK AT ME, MAGNOLIA FISCHER!_"

"No!" She screams. "No! I won't look at you! Not until it's easy! But looking at you is never easy!"

"And why not? Why isn't it easy, Magnolia?"

She's shaking again. Shaking so hard. "They say the eyes are the windows to the soul," she mutters. "I cannot look at anyone's soul. It breaks my heart, Kenan. It breaks my heart to know that you are like everyone else- you have a soul, and it might be cracked from your Games, but you still have one, and I can see it in your eyes. But he took mine! He took mine! My eyes are soulless, unlike everyone else's!"

He hugs her. He hugs her hard. "Mags," he whispers in her ear. "I understand. My eyes were soulless once, too."

"Were they?" Her voice is bitter, sarcastic... she doesn't believe him. What happened in her Games... he didn't experience that. Khia might have hurt him terribly, but not enough to take his soul.

"Yes, Mags. They were." His heartbeat soothes her. "But I had a friend. She helped me when I came back to District Four. She helped me to restore my soul, the soul that Khia took. And now, although it is replaced, I have found ways to cope. And now that friend is gone, and I have found someone who needs help, and I would like to be their friend. I would like to give them a new soul."

"And who is that person?"

"You, Magnolia Fischer."

And, for the first time, she does not simply glance at those deep blue eyes. She looks into them fully. And, for the first time, she sees that they were soulless once. She realises that her soul can be replaced. She realises that she doesn't have to run away any more, or run towards anything. She can stay right there, with her friend, her Kenan, and he will rebuild her soul.

"Thank you," she whispers, trapped in his embrace, but not feeling trapped at all.

"Anything for you, Mags."


End file.
